Without Wilson
by Chockfullo'nuts
Summary: Wilson is away on a holiday, and Chase gets chosen to fill in the oncologist's role of House best friend. Is he up for it? Set during the first seasons, could be pre-slash. Next chapters will be longer.
1. Chapter 1

"'Sup?" A blond, very tired Australian asked. It was four a.m. on a Monday morning, and he had just been woken up by the sound of his mobile chirping. A noise

much too chipper for that time of night.

"Just wanted to see how you were doing." House replied.

"I – did we get a case?"

"Nope."

"Well then what – do you need me to do anything? Because I'd like to get a couple more hour's sleep."

House wasn't going to let his fun be taken away from him that abruptly. He snorted. "Right. As if you get up at six." Chase scowled. He liked to go for a run in

the morning, followed by a long shower. And the fact that House made damn sure none of his ducklings dared to be late for work meant if he wanted to

accomplish all this, his alarm had to be set for six o'clock. "I do get up at six!" he whined indignantly.

"Sure."

"I do!"

"Whatever you say, dear."

"House..."

"Yes, dear?"

"I'm hanging up now. Bother Wilson."

For a second, sadness flashed across the diagnostician's face. He swallowed, relieved Chase couldn't see him. "Wilson's left for Barbados."

If Chase hadn't been half-asleep, he'd have worried at these news. House was bound to be frustrated without his loyal sidekick – and frustrated House could

only be controlled by Wilson. As it was, though, the intensivist merely yawned. "'M hanging up..." he mumbled, and did just that.

* * *

Half an hour later, Chase's phone rang again. He shot up, located the noise, and groaned. "What _now_, House?"

"Hi, Chase!"

"Hi."

"Are you sleeping okay?"

"I _was_."

"I'm eating scrambled eggs."

"Yeah – good for you. Can I go back to sleep now?"

"No. We're talking."

"But – "

"You should be glad. Most employer's take no interest in their subordinates' private life."

"It's the middle of the night. Unless there's anything work-related you'd like to tell me...?"

"..."

"Okay then." Not bothering to say goodbye, Chase hung up. House cocked an eyebrow. Looked like he'd have to teach his Australian duckling some etiquette.

Chase had only just fallen asleep when House called yet again. This time, the intensivist didn't bother with anything resembling politeness. He picked up his

phone and hissed, "Stop. Calling!"

House didn't seem impressed in the slightest, but Chase could definitely hear the smirk in his voice. "You sound stressed. Are you getting enough sleep?"

"I swear, when I get in to work, I'll – "

"You'll what? Tell on me? Throw a punch?"

Chase balled his fists. He ordered himself to stay calm. House would win anyway. The Australian sighed quietly.

"Was there anything you needed, Dr. House?"

"No, thank you. I'll see you in the morning!" And House hung up, leaving the intensivist to strangle his pillow in frustration.

* * *

It was six minutes past eight when Chase arrived in the conference room. His fellow ducklings were already there but House, luckily, wasn't.

"Hey," Cameron said, glancing at her colleague, "good morning." Foreman looked up to, raising an eyebrow. "You look like crap."

Chase scowled. "House." he explained. The diagnostician had called him twice more, which meant that the night had been anything but relaxing.

* * *

The three doctors spent a quiet couple of hours in the conference room, waiting for their employer to arrive. Finally, they heard the familiar rhythm of his cane

on the tiled hospital floor. House entered the room and managed to piss off all his staff in a matter of five seconds as he threw his backpack at Foreman,

whacked Chase over the head with a folder and ordered Cameron to make coffee.

"What?" he demanded, when all three stared at him.

"_Good morning_." Cameron replied pointedly, before rising. Maybe House would calm down when he got his coffee. Chase threw his boss a dirty look and got to

work tidying his hair.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hi Pallada! Such a nice welcome :) By the way, I finished the first chapter of "Lovesick 2.0", just making some changes at the moment. Guest, thanks for your review _

_– here's more! ;)_

* * *

House proceeded to torment his ducklings with snide comments and jibes for the rest of the morning, which eventually led to all three of them leaving for the

clinic just so they could get out of his way. As they walked towards the elevators, Cameron desperately searched for reasons their employer was being such a

prick.

"His leg must be acting up, maybe we should take turns checking on him."

Foreman was seething quietly. "I am not going back in there. And his leg's fine." At Cameron's incredulous look, he rolled his eyes, "I meant, it's no worse than

usual. He was juggling, remember? For ages. When his leg's bad he can't even manage a couple of minutes on his feet without his cane."

Chase nodded, agreeing. "And anyway, I know why he's in such a mood – it's Wilson. He's in Barbados with his wife."

Cameron frowned. "Right, yeah, I forgot about that. I bet that's hard for him."

"He's a big boy, Cameron." Foreman spat, annoyed at his colleague's understanding of everything and everyone.

* * *

The ducklings completed their clinic hours and then went back up to the conference room, hoping House would be out prowling the halls. No such luck. Instead,

he grinned at his employees like a Cheshire cat as they entered. Foreman narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What did you take?"

"Nothing." House sang.

"What did you _do_?"

"_Nothing_." He flashed a look at Foreman, warning him to shut up before continuing, "Did you guys have lunch?"

"No...not yet...why?"

"No reason." House pointed at the table, where an enormous pile of paperwork sat. "I need you to sort out that stuff. Apparently, the maintenance staff aren't

very good at sharing."

Cameron shook her head. "What do you mean, maintenance – "

"He stashed this in one of the fourth floor's closets a couple of months ago..." Chase explained, "I suppose Cuddy found out?" House nodded in mock sorrow.

"Yeah. She says we don't leave our paperwork in broom closets. How am I supposed to keep up with all her crazy policies?"

Not bothering to further discuss this, his fellows found their seats. "So, what are we doing with this?" Chase asked.

"Just alphabetize them according to patient's last names. Then find the four without insurance, Cuddy was yelling about those. And I think there's two or three

ladies in there who, according to their date of birth, should not be as fertile as their pregnancy tests suggested. So those you'll need to find, too." The

diagnostician grinned at the glares he received and, smiling, ambled out.

* * *

The ducklings looked at each other. "Looks like we'll be here for a while." Foreman stated.

Chase sighed, he had missed breakfast because his horrible night had resulted in oversleeping. He got up and went over to the kitchen cabinets, rooting

around for something to eat. However, the chocolate cookies he had definitely seen on Friday had vanished. All that was left was a half-eaten pack of Oreos

and a large box of M&Ms. The Australian hated Oreos. He loved M&Ms...but sadly, those had a note taped to them: "Eat and die." it said. Short and sweet, and

unmistakably House's handwriting. Chase carried the Oreos over to the table and dropped them to be devoured by his colleagues.

"Nothing else in there?" Foreman asked. The intensivist shook his head.

"Just House's M&Ms."

"But there were chips in there. Like two packets – and those chocolate cookies!" Cameron nodded. "And animal crackers."

"House can't have eaten all that."

Foreman's eyes got wide as realisation dawned on him. "That's why he asked whether we'd eaten lunch."

Suspicious looks were shared, and all three fellows got nervous as they realised they were being toyed with. Again. At last, Cameron shrugged. "Doesn't

matter. I'll go see what's in our secret spot."

She left the room, vanishing into House's office. The ducklings had realised a while ago that as long as House found their snacks, they were going to get stolen.

So they'd taken to hiding their stash in House's office, the logic being that he wouldn't search there. Cameron reached behind a filing cabinet and extracted

some salted peanuts, another packet of cookies and several chocolate bars. With her loot, she returned to the conference room. Chase had been standing

guard at the door, but turned around now. When he saw her, his face fell. "Where's all my stuff?" he asked. His colleague shrugged. "Sorry, there was nothing

else there."

"What about my Reese's Pieces? And the fruit roll-ups?"

"Sorry."

* * *

Right at that moment, House walked back in. He didn't even glance at his underlings, going straight toward his office. The ducklings sat down and pretended to

be working, Chase still looking very unhappy as his colleagues munched on their snacks. They had offered him some, of course, but the Australian was picky

when it came to food and didn't eat anything but a few peanuts.

* * *

Half an hour went by before House appeared again. He looked at the table, which was still covered by papers in no apparent order, before pointing at Cameron

and Foreman. "You two, go get lunch."

Chase gaped. "What about me?"

"Wait your turn."

"That doesn't make sense." Cameron pointed out, "We don't have a patient, there's no reason for him not to come with us."

* * *

Despite their protests, House insisted that Cameron and Foreman leave and Chase stay. When he was alone with his intensivist, House smiled again. It was

seriously creeping Chase out. He stared down at the sheets of paper, trying to ignore the department head...when suddenly, he felt a hand ruffling his hair. He

ducked away and stared at House disbelievingly. "What...what did you do that for?" he stammered. House tried to appear innocent.

"Your hair's just so silky. What do you do to it?"

"I – " Chase started, then stopped. He gazed around suspiciously. "Can I – can I go? Please?"

House nodded. "Sure." The younger doctor jumped up and had almost reached the door when his boss added, "You did mean you wanted to go do my clinic

hours, right?" Chase's face switched from confusion, to annoyance and then to acceptance as he realised it was his only way out. "Yes."

"Go on then."


	3. Chapter 3

_Yes, Pallada, I love when the ducklings try to get the best of House. :) Pricklyrose24, sorry, but I'm trying to keep this one light and happy – I'm not in the mood for too _

_much drama right now. Anon, he's just having fun, as will become obvious in this chapter. And Rei, hello again, glad you like it! :)_

* * *

Chase, as instructed, went down to the clinic. He figured he'd stay there for a couple of hours and then finally slip off to lunch. Two hours seemed doable, he

thought, munching on a granola bar he'd purchased on his way downstairs and vaguelly wondering why all those nurses were giggling. The intensivist wiped

his cheek self-consciously, thinking he might have a piece of chocolate stuck somewhere.

* * *

Chocolate wasn't the problem, though...and after a while, all the freaked-out looks started to make Chase rather nervous. He briefly considered whether all

clinic patients and staff could have inhaled some sort of toxin, but was distracted when a little girl tugged on the sleeve of his lab coat. The Australian knelt

down, looking at the kid.

"Hello there. What is it?"

"Your hair is pretty!" she beamed, "I told my mommy I wanted hair like that, but she says I'm too little." Chase grimaced, finally realizing what must have

happened. Of course. House. Forcing a smile, he said, "Thank you. But we should get you back to her now."

Having found the kid's mother in the waiting area, Chase handed the girl one of the stickers he kept in his pockets for dealing with young patients, and waved

slightly. He controlled himself until he was out of sight but then, he broke into a run.

In the bathroom, his suspicions were confirmed. His hair was streaked with pink glitter, which looked...horrible. Chase groaned and let his forehead knock

against the mirror. It took a full five minutes before he worked up the strength to start washing his hair.

* * *

An hour later, a thoroughly annoyed Australian strode into the conference room. He'd gone back to the clinic after getting his hair back into its usual state –

knowing if he went back to the conference room without cooling off first, he would say things he'd regret later on. Now, he was still pissed, but at least he'd

calmed down slightly. The bagel he'd picked up from the cafeteria helped, too. Cameron and Foreman were back to working on the charts, both raising their

heads when he entered. Cameron took in his still damp hair and barely suppressed anger. "What happened to you?" she asked in concern. Chase gestured at

House's office with a questioning look on his face, and Foreman shook his head. "He left. Said he wanted to throw stuff at people from the roof." The intensivist

gritted his teeth, flopping down on one of the chairs.

"He...rubbed some kind of glitter in my hair. Then sent me off to the clinic."

"House?"

Chase looked at Cameron incredulously. She sounded way too surprised. "No," he began sarcastically, "that doesn't sound like anything he would do, you're

right." His colleague looked sheepish.

"It's exactly what he'd do." she admitted.

Foreman frowned, saying, "Well, why did you go?"

"To the clinic? I didn't know. Left me to wonder why everyone was looking at me weirdly." Chase sighed tiredly.

Cameron threw him a pitying look. "Well, maybe...maybe it didn't look that bad. I'm guessing that most people probably didn't even notice – "

"It was _pink_."

Foreman patted Chase on the shoulder as he stood up to get coffee. "He's really got it in for you today."

"Yeah. But – why? I didn't do anything!"

* * *

At that moment, House arrived back. He glanced at Chase and smirked. "Showering on the job, are we?"

The Australian balled his fists and stared down at the table. He felt his colleagues staring at him, urging him to get mad for once...but he knew House could

crush him in a matter of seconds if he felt like it.

The diagnostician tugged on a strand of his intensivist's hair playfully. "Come on, don't sulk."

"I finished your clinic duty." Chase answered in a tight voice, keeping his eyes on the chart in front of him.

"Wow." House replied sarcastically. He ambled over to his office, closing the door. Shortly after, the ducklings could hear the Rolling Stones blasting.

"You finished his clinic hours after he dumped _glitter_ over your head?" Foreman seemed to decide Chase had finally gone insane.

"I..." the intensivist shrugged. "Yeah."

* * *

For two hours, the ducklings worked on the pile of old charts quietly, finally managing to get most of it sorted. By half past six, they were done. Cameron

volunteered to inform House. At her knock, the department head left his office.

"Looks like you're done." the older doctor said, walking over to the table. Then, using his cane, he tipped one of the stacks of paper off the table.

"_House_!" his three underlings exclaimed as one.

"Oops."

Foreman looked as though he wanted to strangle House right there, while Cameron seemed miserable that a human being could be capable of doing

something like that. None of them expected House would clear up after himself for a minute, and they had already spent close to six hours on straightening out

what had originally been his mess. House made a face of mock consternation, then pretended to be relieved. "I know!" he said happily, "Chase will clean up.

After all, he had a nice shower before, so it's only fair. You two," he pointed at Cameron and Foreman, "go home."

Cameron glared and shook her head. "I'm staying. What you're doing to Chase today is just – "

"_You_, " House said in a tone that left no room for argument, "are _going_."

* * *

It took a couple of threats, but finally, Chase was left alone in the conference room with his boss. He started picking up the sheets of paper, resigned to

spending at least another hour in the hospital.

When he was finished, the Australian leaned back in his chair, utterly exhausted. House's sharp ears picked up on his tired sigh. "Get back to work, slacker." he

called from his office – where he was stretched out reading magazines.

"I'm done..." Chase ground out.

"Great. You can go get me a sandwich then."

"I – oh, come on. It's nearly eight. I'd like to get home sometime."

"Sandwich."

"House, I really – "

"Sandwich..." the diagnostician sang, and Chase, recognizing defeat, got up. Without a word, he trudged off in the direction of the cafeteria.

Ten minutes later, he returned with a ham sandwich. "Can I go now?" he asked, handing it to his boss. House nodded, making an impatient gesture and

leaning back in his chair. His eyes widened at the speed with which his wombat left – the wombat grabbed his bag and lab coat and then, without a backwards

glance, took off. Contemplating the reasons behind that, House took another bite – and, as his face screwed up, Chase's flight became entirely logical.


	4. Chapter 4

_Sure he would, Pallada ;) He is, Pricklyrose. Koralina, thank you, and verlan – hello, glad you're reading again :)_

* * *

The following morning, Chase slunk into the conference room feeling pretty uneasy. He had woken up with a pain in his jaw and realized he must have been

grinding his teeth in his sleep again. It had taken a few seconds for him to remember what he had to worry about before it came to him – House's reaction to

his rather special sandwich, of course. The intensivist had dragged himself out of bed and wondered whether maybe striking back had not been wise...

* * *

In the department of diagnostics, everything was quiet. Chase looked around for signs of House having been in, but to his relief couldn't spot any.

"Morning, Chase." Foreman walked in, closely followed by Cameron. The two realized their colleague was acting weirdly in a matter of seconds. "What's up?"

Cameron inquired.

"I did something stupid." the Australian admitted, which made both other doctors listen.

"You know how House annoyed me yesterday...well, he sent me to get him a sandwich after you guys had left, and I asked for one spread with...jelly, ham and

tuna. Plus extra pickles."

"You what?" Cameron spluttered, almost choking on the sip of coffee she had just taken. Foreman, on the other hand, nodded approvingly. "Good for you!"

Chase forced a smile. "Yeah, I guess..."

* * *

Time seemed to slow down as the team waited for their boss, Chase hiding his anxiety as well as he could. Finally, the three doctors heard Cuddy yelling in the

special frequency reserved for extreme anger – and when Cuddy was extremely angry, House was never far away. Sure enough, just seconds after, the dean

and her high-maintenance-employee entered.

"...unless you can show me proof that you have anything planned resembling work today – "

"Cameron keeps my calendar."

Cuddy pressed her lips together to stop herself from smiling. "House, get going." She pointed at the ducklings, "You three, report back to me if he tries to hide

again!" Foreman nodded, but Cameron and Chase averted their gazes, anxious not to get on House's bad side. Exasperated, Cuddy shook her head. She

turned on her heel and stalked off.

House, meanwhile, had left his backpack in his office and was having fun seeing Chase tense when he felt his boss move around behind him.

"There's some patient in the clinic she wants me to see." the diagnostician explained at Cameron's impatient stare. He sounded actually offended at the mere idea.

The immunologist shook her head. "Shocking." she mumbled, going back to her magazine.

Suddenly, Chase jumped up from his chair. "Argh!" he shrieked, "House, dammit!" He was pulling on his shirt, desperately trying to get the ice cubes House had

dropped down his neck out as soon as possible. House watched this for a couple of seconds, then grinned. "I'll be somewhere else." he said, grabbing his mug

of coffee and disappearing through the door to the balcony. Chase had finally managed to get the ice out of his shirt and was muttering curses, straightening

his blazer. He shot a look at the now empty balcony and then, coming to a decision, grabbed the phone.

"Brenda? Yeah, hi. If you could let Dr. Cuddy know that House is not intending to come downstairs...yeah. No, he's in Dr. Wilson's office. I don't know...I guess

he's got a key – okay, thanks. Right, thank you!" The Australian hung up, seeing both his colleagues staring, utterly dumbfounded.

"You're dead." Foreman pointed out. Chase looked slightly nervous.

"I think I'll go...help out in NICU." he mumbled, leaving.

* * *

Chase realized he would have to get back to the department of diagnostics eventually, but he hadn't expected to be paged as soon as he arrived at the NICU.

Resigned to his fate, he trotted back towards House's empire of terror, expecting to be chewed out. Disgusting sandwiches, while risky, were nothing

compared to the dangers of setting Cuddy on House. Chase arrived at the conference room and braced himself. He took a deep breath and slowly opened the

glass door, inching inside.

"Well, it's Skippy. Thanks for gracing us with your presence." House shot his employee a look that made the Australian want to back right out again. He fought

the instinct, though, and sat down at the table. Far away from the whiteboard.

"_Someone_" House went on, "seems to have ratted me out to Cuddy." Chase swallowed, but held his gaze. "You dropped ice-cubes down my neck."

"I'm your boss. I'm allowed to play pranks." the department head busied himself at the kitchen counter, then went back to the whiteboard with a mug of coffee.

Chase decided not to respond, asking instead, "So, do we have a case?"

"Yeah. Fascinating one. Some guy seeing spots."

"Um, trauma?" Foreman shook his head, perusing the file.

"No. Seeing spots, that's it?"

House threw a look at Chase. "Thanks to Benedict Arnold here."

"Benedict who?" the intensivist screwed up his forehead in confusion.

"_Are you still talking?!_"

Chase pouted, getting to his feet. Maybe a cup of coffee would make House less annoying. Cameron, too, seemed to have had enough. "Benedict Arnold.

Traitor in the Revolutionary War. And not really what we should be talking about. Is he taking any kind of medication?" Chase stirred sugar into his coffee and

returned to the table, saying, "We should rule out dehydration, take a history." The Australian looked at House questioningly, took a sip of his coffee – and

spat it out again, spaying part of the table and even reaching House's beloved whiteboard.

"What – what is this?" he sputtered, while Foreman groaned and Cameron looked utterly disgusted.

House smirked. "Not liking your own medicine?" He snapped the file shut and got up. "Right. Go talk to our patient. Oh, and Chase?"

"Yeah?" the Australian asked, not hiding his annoyance. House smiled sweetly.

"Mop up your slobber."

* * *

For half an hour, everyone in the diagnostic's department went about their business. Meaning, Foreman quizzed their patient, Cameron got a head start on

opening House's mail, Chase was busy wiping the table and House made a trip to the vending machines. As soon as he had left the room, Chase stopped

wiping. He frowned, deep in thought, before seeming to make a decision. Cameron looked up, surprised at the lack of movement. Puzzled, she watched the

Australian make his way into House's office. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Don't know yet. But that coffee was disgusting."

"Are you – getting back at him?"

"That's the plan." Chase's voice sounded muffled, as if he was crouching under a table. Which he was. Cameron sighed.

"You're not gonna win."

"I know." the intensivist slipped back into the conference room. "But he wants to get a rise out of me. First day, I didn't do anything, and he was even worse.

Might as well have some fun, if he's gonna toy with me anyway."

"You don't look like you're having fun." the other doctor observed, noticing her colleague's frequent nervous glances at the door. Chase shrugged. It may not

be obvious, but...he kind of was.


	5. Chapter 5

_Sorry guys, I know this took a long time... Pallada and Rei, yes, pranks war, indeed! :) koralina, me too – I was disappointed when they just kind of forgot about the _

_whole thing. Pricklyrose, I think this may be a war with both sides winning! ;)_

* * *

The differential held when Foreman returned was a short one. House merely had his ducklings voice their ideas before declining about 80% of their suggestions

and giving them a list of tests to run. While the team were putting on their lab-coats, dumping coffee into the sink and gathering up files, House strode over to

his TV and turned it on. Cameron and Foreman shared a look that was half-annoyance, half-amusement as the familiar intro of "General Hospital" drifted over.

Chase, on the other hand, glanced at his watch in surprise and then turned around, covering the distance to the door in two long strides. His fingers were

already on the door handle when...

"CHASE!" The Australian flinched. Silently, he debated whether he should just make a run for it, but House stopped that line of thought by barking, "Get in

here!" in a tone so savage Chase immediately started towards his employer's office. His colleagues watched him edge into the other room, eyes firmly on his

shoes.

* * *

House looked at his fellow like a snake may look at a rodent before lunging. "The picture is green." he growled menacingly. Chase nodded mutely.

"Change. It. Back." his boss commanded, tossing the remote at his employee and narrowly missing his head. Slowly, the intensivist pressed some buttons on

the remote. His eyes flickered to House every couple of seconds, worried what the diagnostician may do next. Finally, the freakishly-handsome doctors on the

screen had healthy skin-tones again, as opposed to the greenish hue from before. Chase lowered the hand holding House's remote and waited. His employer's

eyes were back on the television when he said,

"You _ever_ mess with one of my soaps again, and there will be trouble."

Chase looked at the carpet. "Right." he mumbled. He was expecting some kind of punishment, but House just pointed at the door, eyes never leaving the

screen.

"Out."

* * *

Chase fled, only daring to slow down when he was well away from the department of diagnostics. He decided, then and there, that messing with his

supervisor's treasured routine was going too far. Thinking about this, he started when a hand touched his shoulder.

"Hey." Cameron said, looking at him worriedly. "Are you okay?"

Chase nodded. "Yeah."

Foreman appeared at his side, too. "What did you do?"

"Changed the setting, General Hospital was...green."

"What did _he_ do?"

"He...made it clear I shouldn't try that again. But apart from that, nothing." As he said it, Chase realized how odd that had really been. Generally, House didn't

miss an opportunity to stick his ducklings with paper work or clinic hours when they annoyed him, and messing with the diagnostician's stuff was a surefire way

to get him mad enough. The intensivist bit his lips. Looked like the matter might not be over.

* * *

A couple hours later, the team made their way back to the conference room. To Chase's relief, House was nowhere to be seen. However, the intensivist didn't

get more than a few minutes of peace, because suddenly, his pager started beeping.

"It's House." Chase said, reading aloud; "Meet me in the cafeteria." Foreman raised his eyebrows, unable to think of a response. Cameron looked a little hurt.

"What, now he's having lunch with you?!" she snorted, trying to appear derisively, but both her colleagues knew perfectly well she would have taken any

opportunity to try and crack their employer's hard shell. Chase looked at her.

"Come on. He wants to punish me for messing with his TV, why else would he want me – " the Australian was interrupted by his pager chirping again. "If ur not

down here in 5 minutes, u'll b working in geriatric's next week." Chase paled, bolting out of the door. He hated geriatric's. It was always too quiet there...too

much space too think, and all the patients seemed to want to adopt him as their grandson. Unfortunately, House had wheedled that information out of his

wombat, and now took great pleasure in threatening him with shifts there. To his credit, it proved effective.

* * *

Chase arrived at the cafeteria in less than three minutes. "Finally." House sighed, standing at the cashier and tapping his cane impatiently. A queue had formed

behind him, but all the waiting customers just looked politely pissed off. It would take a lot more for them to be surprised at anything the disagreeable

diagnostician did. House ignored all the disapproving glances he got when he proceeded to wave Chase to the front of the line.

"Come on, come on." he said, gesturing for his underling to pay. The intensivist didn't even blink, simply handing over the correct amount of money and

shooting an apologetic look at all his waiting colleagues. Then, he followed his boss to a table and watched him set down his tray.

"Did you want anything else?" Chase asked.

"Yeah. Sit." Taken aback, the Australian remained standing, actually moving away from the table a little.

"_Sit_." Eyes widened, Chase sat. House pushed a plate of fries towards him, starting on his own bowl of spaghetti. For a couple of minutes, no-one said

anything, House being busy with his pasta and Chase much too shocked too talk. Then, the older doctor looked up from his plate.

"Why aren't you eating?" he said, sounding genuinely surprised and also slightly annoyed. His duckling shrugged. He couldn't deny that he was hungry, but

he'd assumed he'd be shouted at the second he started eating. House did not have lunch with his fellows. Ever. Now, though, he planned to.

"Eat." he ordered, staring at Chase until the kid gingerly picked up a single fry, nibbling at it as though scared it might explode. Satisfied, House went back to

his meal. He was quiet for a while, watching surreptitiously as his employee timidly took another fry...and another.

"You're paying for dessert." he then announced, out of the blue.

"Dessert?" Chase looked up, confused.

"'Pudding' to you Brits."

"I'm not...oh, never mind. You want dessert?"

"Always. You should remember that."

"Why should I...fine. Okay. So, what – what d'you want?" The intensivist was already getting up, ready to play fetch like the well-trained little puppy he was.

"Nothing yet. Sit down. No dessert until you're done with dinner."

"But I don't even want dessert..."

"Well, am _I_ done?"

"..."

"Exactly. Need all those vitamins!"

"You're eating spaghetti...with ketchup."

"Well, _you're_ eating fries. If anything, those are even more unhealthy."

"You ordered them!"

"Out of the kindness of my heart. Be grateful."Chase stared disbelievingly.

"I paid!"

"And who signs your paycheck?!"

The intensivist realized he'd lost. "Well played." he admitted. With a grin, House stole a fry.


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks, koralina! Pallada, thank you, and no, it wasn't. Thanks Guest, I'm glad. And Pricklyrose, exactly, I think so too. _

_I wanted to let you all know there won't be a medical case in this fic, I don't have time for any research right now and if I put in medicine, I want to get it right. So this _

_will just be fun between House and Chase :)_

* * *

House and his duckling were disturbed before they even got to dessert. The diagnostician was just launching into a recount of all the relationships Wilson'd

had, relaying all the girls' faults. Chase, in spite of himself, was having fun, when his pager went off. In one fluid motion, Chase checked its screen, jumped up,

and took off. "Patient coding!" he called back over his shoulder. House remained sitting. Watching his lackey run off, stumbling slightly, he smirked. He'd had an

idea.

* * *

The diagnostic team managed to revive their patient quickly. As soon as Cameron had sent a message to her boss, giving him these news, the shrill beep

sounded again. Wearily, Chase reached into his lab coat.

He groaned. Granted, the time with his boss had been surprisingly enjoyable...but he was exhausted now, and he had a mountain of paperwork to do. In

addition, seeing as they had a patient and no idea what was wrong with the guy, he was expecting a sleepless night. "Reckon House'll kill me if I just pretend I

didn't get this page?"

"Yes." Cameron and Foreman said in unison. Shoulders slumped, the Australian set off towards the cafeteria.

* * *

Arriving there, he made his way through the people milling about, coming to a stop in front of his superior.

"You paged me." he said, before realising House was glaring at him. "What'd I do now?" he added miserably.

"When I page you 911, I want you _panting_ when you arrive."

"You were in the cafeteria...I knew you didn't have a patient. I just thought – "

"There could have been a patient. Stroll in like that again, and you may find your lunch privileges revoked."

Chase clenched his teeth before nodding. "Noted."

"Good. You can go."

Shaking his head and none the wiser as to what House had actually been wanting from him, the intensivist trudged off. Also, much to his chagrin, it was

already time for his clinic duty.

* * *

While Chase spent two hours with irritating clinic patients, House worked hard on a different task. He managed to get hold of a large container of sunflower oil

fairly quickly. Having succeeded in that, he got to work on driving his remaining two ducklings out of the conference room – which proved to be a little more

difficult.

* * *

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. "_House_!"

"Yeah?" Thunk.

"I swear, that ball is driving me – " Thunk.

"_Ow_!" indignantly, Cameron rubbed her forehead. She had poked her head into House's office, and was now rethinking that particular move. She glared at her

boss angrily. "Well, at least now your balls's gone." With a smirk, House opened his desk drawer, taking out another, slightly smaller tennis ball. "Oh, don't

worry." he said happily, making his immunologist sigh and turn away. She went back to her computer, expecting House to start bouncing his new ball, but

instead, the diagnostician followed her into the conference room. There, he limped over to Foreman and proceeded to snatch the journal the neurologist was

reading. "Hey!" Foreman protested angrily. House was now tapping Cameron on the head with the journal.

"_What is it_?"

Not bothering to answer, the older doctor simply jerked his thumb backwards, signaling for her to vacate the seat. Annoyed, Cameron complied. She watched

her boss sit down and, without further ado, close all the documents she had been working on before shutting down the computer.

"I wasn't done." the immunologist said wearily, but House just shrugged.

"Sorry." he replied, "My laptop's acting up."

"And you're planning on dragging this computer into your office...?!"

"No. But if I can't have fun, neither can you. Wouldn't be fair."

"I wasn't _having fun_. I was busy. With _your_ paperwork."

"Yeah, right." House scoffed, before snapping, "Foreman! What do you think you're doing?"

The neurologist, deprived of his magazine, had been eating Skittles while watching the argument unfold.

"I'm...snacking." At the look the older doctor threw him, Foreman rolled his eyes. "What? You're the one that's refusing to even think of diagnosing our patient

before we get the test results."

"Because it wouldn't make sense."

"Hey – I'm not saying anything. I'm just eating Skittles."

"Not anymore." Before Foreman had any chance to react, House grabbed the plastic bag and poured nearly its entire contents into his mouth. Then, he smirked

at his employees. "Let's play a game!" Foreman shook his head.

"No way. I've played games with you. It never ends well." He started to get up, but was called to order immediately:

"If you still want to have a job this afternoon – Sit. Down." Reluctantly, the neurologist complied.

His supervisor looked thoughtful. "Okay, rules. No-one is allowed to use the letter 'b'."

Cameron frowned. "What kind of a game is that?"

"A...fun one." House had turned to the whiteboard and was busy drawing up three columns, headed with all the team's names. "Whoever uses it wins clinic

duty. Though admittedly, I'll pawn mine off on Chase."

Foreman was scowling. "I'm not playing."

"Not an option."

Cameron cleared her throat. "Um, House?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe we – " the immunologist's mouth snapped shut when her boss drew a bar in her column. "Why...?"

"You said 'maybe'." Cameron pouted.

"Well, now _you_ said it."

"Doesn't count. Grow up."

Foreman groaned. "Wouldn't we be of better use – " he stared at the whiteboard in dismay, while House smirked. "Keep talking!" he encouraged, but both his

fellows shook their heads.

Silence. The team kept their mouths shut, avoiding their employer's eyes. The diagnostician let them stew for a while, before deciding the time had come. "Fine.

Looks like you're too emotionally stunted to have fun at a simple game. But if you don't want to play, you can get out of here."

The fellows were out the door in a matter of seconds, making House grin. The plan was going great.

* * *

Shortly after, House was positioned on the corridor outside his office. He had paged Chase – urgently, again – and was waiting excitedly for what should

happen next.

* * *

Down in the clinic, meanwhile, Chase had glanced at his pager and immediately started sprinting. He was sure House was only messing with him, but given a

reason, the sadistic bastard would still make his life hell. And simple disregard of the order to be "panting" definitely counted as a reason. So, the intensivist

ran, taking the steps two at a time and skidding to a halt in front of the department of diagnostics. Or so he'd have liked. Instead, his feet kept right on sliding,

making him crash on the tiles. And to make matters worse, House stepped up to him, having been concealed in a doorway down the corridor. Slowly, Chase sat

up, his head pounding. He dipped a finger into the substance he had slipped on, and frowned. "Oil?" he muttered, puzzled. At the smirk his boss was wearing,

though, everything became clear. The Australian glared, yelling, "You did this? I could have – " Suddenly, House held up a finger. He cocked his head, listening.

And now Chase heard it too – the unmistakable sound of Cuddy's high-heels advancing. House grimaced. The woman always got so damn unreasonable when

he was having fun with the kids, screeching at him about things like responsibility and work environment...making a decision, the diagnostician bent down to

his underling and looked right at him.

"Listen," he said, "you tell her about this, and I will make you work hours so long you'll think you're back in med school. I'll make sure you don't get to feel

the sun on your beautifully bronze skin for at least a month. That's a promise. _Got it_?"

Before Chase could respond, Cuddy had arrived. "What happened here?" she asked, astounded.

"Dr. Chase had a little mishap." House explained, eyeing his employee menacingly.

"A mishap?"

"Yeah. He was supposed to take this to the lab," House gestured at the puddle, "but seems to have stumbled over his freakishly large feet."

Cuddy didn't look convinced. "Is that true, Dr. Chase?"

The Australian glanced at House before answering, meekly, "Yes, Dr. Cuddy."

He liked the sun.


	7. Chapter 7

_Guys. Sorry, but this was SO hard. For some reason, I just couldn't think of anything else those two might do to one another. I've finished this chapter at last, but I'm _

_not happy. Hope the next one will be easier...Pallada, he will soon, don't worry. I just think it'd be out of character for Chase to be at ease too soon. Same goes for you, _

_koralina – soon! Rei, Guest, FireAngel5683 and espogio, thank you so much! Verlan, thanks, and I hope you're fine by now! =] Tzswei, I'm not sure I understand what _

_you mean – you'd like a prank to backfire? In which way?_

* * *

Knowing House, Cuddy wasn't entirely convinced Chase was telling the truth. But she also realized that as long as his boss was listening, she wouldn't get

anything else out of the intensivist.

"Fine." the dean of medicine said, rolling her eyes. "House, I want the files on Mr. Ginghan by tonight."

"Certainly, Cuddles." the diagnostician replied, smirking.

"_Don't_ call me Cuddles." his supervisor hissed in response, before stalking off. Chase was still sitting on the floor miserably.

"I'm not taking care of those files." he mumbled sullenly. House just grinned.

"No. You'll be busy."

Suspiciously, the younger doctor looked up. "With what?"

"Cleaning. Look at this mess."

To a series of muffled swearwords, House ambled off, leaving his duckling to contemplate the sweetness of revenge.

* * *

A few hours later, the patient had been diagnosed with a congenital heart defect, much to House's annoyance. Despite not wanting to take the case at first, he

had gotten caught up in the puzzle of seemingly inconspicuous test results, and the simple solution frustrated him. He sent his lackeys to treat and confirm,

before retiring to his office. It was nearly six p.m., and he was just getting ready to go home, when he heard a key turn in the lock. The diagnostician narrowed

his eyes, covering the distance to the door in two long strides. He tried the handle, but wasn't surprised to discover he was locked in. And, equally

unsurprising, the key to his office had vanished from his coat pocket. House tapped his fingers on his cane. Had Chase seen him at that moment, he'd have

been relieved at the grin forming on his employer's face.

* * *

For the following morning, Chase deliberately didn't set his alarm. Being late would get him into trouble – but he wanted witnesses when facing House, so

coming in after Cameron and Foreman was vital. However, he was wide awake by half-past five. Feeling restless and queasy, he got up, contemplating to call in

sick but knowing House would escape eventually and probably be banging on his door by noon if he didn't appear at the hospital. Instead, he went through his

morning routine as slowly as possible, cleaning his teeth thoroughly and taking the time to clip his nails as well as do the dishes. By eight fifteen, he was

walking through the lobby and shortly after towards the diagnostic department.

* * *

Entering the conference room, Chase swallowed, bracing himself. Cameron and Foreman were both standing at the glass wall separating the conference room

from House's inner sanctum.

Cautiously, Chase walked up to them.

"Is he – " the Australian began, only to be interrupted by his superior's voice:

"Pissed off as hell?! Yeah."

Chase bit his lip, looking at his colleagues for support.

"Let him out!" Cameron said urgently, and the intensivist nodded.

"Yes. Of course." He groped for the keys and stuck the right one into the lock, turning it and then backing away as far as he could go. He stood pressed against

the wall to the corridor, right beside the door so he could hope to escape if that proved necessary. His eyes widened as he watched House leave his office and

advance, much like a wild animal being released from his cage. Before Chase could decide whether his expertise was suddenly and conveniently needed in the

clinic, the phone rang. The department head stopped short, turning around and putting the call on speakerphone with the press of a button.

"House?" a well-known voice said. It was Wilson. House suppressed a smile, pointing at the door instead. Cameron and Foreman shared a long-suffering

glance before trudging out, used to this by now. Needless to say, Chase had escaped as soon as soon as House had turned away.

* * *

"What's up?" the diagnostician asked.

"Nothing. I just felt like talking to you. And unlike certain people I know, I'm well adjusted enough to actually admit when I care about people."

"Yeah. Right. You had a fight with Julie."

"I..."

"Admit it."

"_Fine_. But that's not why I'm calling."

House smiled, glad he could ruffle his friend's feathers from so many miles away."Why are you calling?" he enquired.

"I spoke to Cuddy. She mentioned that you were having fun tripping up your fellows."

"Tattletale. And not fellows, fellow."

"I'll be home in four days. Will you manage not to make your team quit until I'm back?"

"Chase had it coming. He messed with my TV."

"I'm sure he didn't do that on purpose..."

"Yeah, he did. Everything was green."

"Honestly? Why'd he do that?"

"He was upset. Something about coffee – you know those Aussies, can't take it if anything doesn't go as planned."

"I've never heard Australians to be described as anything but laid-back. Is it possible you manipulated this coffee in any way?"

"Might've. But he ratted me out to Cuddy."

"Chase?"

"Of course Chase. That's who we're talking about."

"But he'd never...he's terrified of you."

"Well, apparently, he's gotten over it."

"No way. You must have done something first."

"Well."

"House...?"

"I dropped some ice-cubes down his neck."

"..."

"He seemed feverish."

"You must be the worst boss in history."

"He tricked me into eating pickles."

"Well, damn him. Pickles? That's just going too far."

"It is. I hate pickles."

"Don't I know it. Remember the time you made that waitress cry because she was serving complementary pickle sauce?"

"She was hot."

"Well. Yeah. But...that's not the point. Anyway. Why'd he trick you into eating pickles?"

"Maybe because I accidentally got some glitter in his hair..."

"Seems plausible, yeah. God, House. Anything else?"

"No. Chase and me, we're pals now. Since you left me. We're even having late-night-conversations on the phone."

"What about?"

"Y'know...girls 'nd stuff."

"Right. And I'm sure he called you."

"Probably. You know him, talkative little chap."

"Okay. House?"

"What?"

"I'm gonna hang up now. And _you _will stop messing with Chase. I'm calling him tonight. If I find out you did anything I wouldn't approve of, there's two tickets

for a monster truck rally which might find their way into the trash."

"The one in Southside?"

"Oh yeah."

"You're a mean-spirited man, you know that?"

"Yes. I'm trying to work through the pain."

"Bye, Wilson."

"Bye, House."

* * *

House whistled for his ducklings the minute he'd hung up the phone. Through the glass wall, he watched them flash annoyed looks at him before coming in.

That is, two of them. Chase had vanished mysteriously.

"Where's the wombat?" House asked impatiently when Cameron and Foreman had sat down.

"He went to the clinic." Cameron supplied.

"He doesn't have clinic duty today."

"Well, he's doing your hours. A kind of...peace-offering?"

House rolled his eyes. "Go find him."


	8. Chapter 8

_Thank you so much, everyone. As you can see by the reasonably fast update, I'm fine now, chapter eight was no problem at all. :)_

_Pallada, Rei and espogio, I'm glad you liked chapter seven even if I didn't. Hope chapter eight will be liked too! _

_Tzswei, this fic isn't going to be a dramatic one, so there won't be any accidents. I'm sorry if that's what you were looking for, but I'm just interested in something very _

_basic right now. _

_I'm including a small medical case after all, if anyone's wondering. _

* * *

When Foreman discovered Chase at the reception desk, the Australian grimaced. He had guessed that his escape wouldn't do him any good.

"House wants you." Foreman said, and his colleague nodded.

"Yeah. I just...I've got to see a patient." he waved a file half-heartedly. Foreman scoffed.

"You really want me to tell him you're busy?"

"Um. No." Chase hung his head, sighed, and looked so pathetic he managed to make even Foreman feel sorry for him.

"He didn't seem _too_ mad..." the neurologist offered, but his colleague just snorted.

"That's probably because he's looking forward to my execution."

"You should go up there."

"Yeah."

* * *

Shortly after, Chase arrived at the department of diagnostics. He braced himself and opened the door cautiously. No sign of House, only Cameron was still

sitting at the table. The intensivist ran his tongue across his lips nervously. "Cameron?" he said softly, making his colleague look up.

"Yes?" she responded, looking so sympathetic she'd have made every villain run off to find his very own puppy to love. If anything, it made Chase feel worse.

"Know where House went?"

"He's here. In his office."

The Australian nodded and finally entered the room. He crossed over to his employer's inner sanctum, sticking his head inside.

"You – wanted to see me?" he asked, his voice a lot more timid than he'd have liked.

House looked straight at his duckling.

"Oh yeah. You wanna explain yourself?"

Chase dropped his gaze. He did _not_ want to explain himself, actually.

"Chase?"

"Well, you..."

"Spit it out."

"You started it."

"Very mature."

Chase didn't miss a beat. "Look who's talking." House grinned.

"Fair enough. You can go."

"You're letting me go?" the younger doctor stared at his boss suspiciously, "Just like that?"

"Yes. Get out of here." Chase trotted toward the conference room uncertainly, sure he would be commanded back the second he'd shut the door behind him –

but House didn't make any move to call him in again. Puzzled, the intensivist sat down opposite Cameron.

* * *

"That was quick." she observed in a low voice.

"Yeah..." her colleague agreed, "and weirdly painless." He shrugged, deciding once again that trying to understand House was futile. Before the two could

discuss it any further, Foreman barged in.

"Got a case!" he explained, shoving a file at his co-workers.

House, once again demonstrating perfectly good hearing, joined his employees at the table.

"What are we looking at?"

"Jasper Tannsey. Fourty-year-old male with mood changes, blurry vision and chest pain."

"High blood pressure?"

"Yes – " Cameron admitted, scanning the file. Her boss poured himself a cup of coffee.

"My work seems to be done."

"His BP's been normal his whole life. There's no reason for it to sky-rocket suddenly, he's always been healthy."

House rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll humour you guys."

"That'd be a first." Foreman mumbled. He earned a glare...and the task of completing his employer's clinic hours while his colleagues were busy working up the

patient.

* * *

Chase and Cameron found House in the office when they got back, still sitting as they'd left him.

"Shoot." the diagnostician said, uncapping a marker.

Chase sat down. "Non-smoker...no history of anything early-onset in his family...doesn't have any pets."

"He's a widower." Cameron chimed in, "with three kids. And he's allergic to cat fur."

House had written down everything Chase had listed, but didn't bother to add Cameron's remarks.

Hurt, the immunologist looked up at him. "Why aren't you writing that down?"

The department head nodded at his youngest duckling. "Chase?"

"He's trying to teach you not to waste his time." the Australian muttered. He hated when House put him on the spot like that. True, he did almost always

realise why House treated his colleagues the way he did...but it wasn't easy to phrase his supervisor's thoughts politely – namely because they were often too

true not to be hurtful. Since Cameron still looked puzzled, though, Chase was forced to elaborate.

"His family situation isn't relevant to his illness." Finally, Cameron understood. She glowered at House.

"It could be."

"It's not."

"Fine. He's allergic to cat hair, will you at least – "

But House was already writing, satisfied now that he'd managed to piss off Cameron.

* * *

When the whiteboard was covered in House's handwriting, the diagnostician sent Cameron and the by then returned Foreman off to run the first round of

tests, most of which the patient's previous doctor's had already done. Chase started to get up along with his colleagues, but his boss just had to raise an

eyebrow to let the intensivist know he wasn't free yet. Congratulating himself on how well he'd trained this little duckling, the diagnostician watched two of his

employees leave – while the third grew very anxious very quickly. To his credit, House only enjoyed his wombat's uneasiness for a few seconds before putting

him at ease.

"My hands are tied."

"Excuse me?"

"I can't retaliate. Wilson's blackmailing me."

"Wilson?"

"Can't remember him? I'm not surprised. It _has_ been almost a week since you saw him last – and he's not exactly memorable."

"No, I meant...how come _Wilson_ of all people is blackmailing you?"

"He does that regularly, actually."

"What with?"

"Like I'd tell you."

"Right."

"That's it? Thought you'd be happy."

"I am, I guess. I just don't really believe it yet. You won't do anything?"

"I can't."

"Well..."

"What?"

"Well, you could. I wouldn't tell him."

"I know you wouldn't _intentionally_ tell him, moron." House glared. "'Cause if you did, there'd be trouble."

Chase rolled his eyes."I know. I just said I – "

"_Anyway_, Wilson would know. You suck at lying, and Wilson's good at wheedling the truth out of people. Deathly combination."

"We can just call it quits. That's fine by me."

"No way. If we stop now, you'll have won. I'll pay you back. Someday."

Chase shook his head. The fact that his supervisor planned to play a prank on him someday didn't bother him too much – sure, it would be uncomfortable, but

working for House, pranks were always a very real possibility. Nonetheless, he was beginning to get a headache. Conversations with his boss tended to do

that. The intensivist rubbed his temples.

"Fine. Can I go now?"

"No. I need you to watch General Hospital with me."

"Pardon?"

"General Hospital."

"Are you serious?"

"You bet. Starts in five minutes."

"But...you hate when we disturb you while you're – "

"Exactly, I hate when you disturb me – I don't need people coming in and bothering me with mundane questions or, even worse, answers. I won't ever get

that. You're always presenting me some test results or other."

"If you didn't ask for every test to be re-run because you don't trust other doctors..."

"Hey! How many times has that helped solve a case?"

"I don't keep track."

"But it's helped?"

Chase sighed. "Yes..." he admitted.

"So basically, I'm brilliant."

"Yes, House. May I go?"

"Sure. There's several patients in the clinic waiting for their colonoscopys."

"Um. You want me to do those?"

"Yeah. Or watch TV with me. Your decision."

"I'll...I'll take General Hospital."

"Wise. Come on."


	9. Chapter 9

_Thank you Pallada, glad you liked the bits I liked! :) Rei, no...that truce will be over before you know it, I suspect. Hi Koralina, thanks. And don't worry, this fic is all _

_about their friendship. House's definition of friendship, of course. ;) verlan, me too, so there'll be more of that! :)_

* * *

In the patient's room, Cameron and Foreman found their patient in the company of two little girls and a boy of about ten. Cameron smiled at the children.

"Hi, guys. Are you visiting your dad?"

The youngest girl nodded.

"I'm Georgie, and I'm five." she said, smiling at the friendly doctor. "When I'm grown-up, I wanna be a doctor too, but I wanna be a horse doctor. And unicorns

are like horses, so when a unicorn's hurt I can help him too. And then maybe he'll let me have a little baby unicorn, because I really want one." The little girl's

eyes lit up at the thought of baby unicorns, and she turned to her dad. "It could sleep in my bed, right, daddy? If it's careful it doesn't poke me?" From the

hospital bed, Jasper chuckled.

"Georgie loves people. Tim, Katie, say hello!" The other two kids waved shyly, while Foreman decided enough time had been wasted.

"Maybe your children would like to spend some time in the play room, Mr. Tannsey?" he asked, barely hiding his impatience. The patient looked at his children

questioningly.

"What about it?" he asked. Georgie whooped excitedly.

"Yeah!" she shouted, grabbing Katie's hand. Her siblings weren't quite as enthusiastic, but encouraging looks from their father made them shrug and nod.

Cameron gestured for them to follow.

"I'll take you." she said, adding to Foreman, "Meet you at the lab."

* * *

Chase had watched a few episodes of General Hospital when he first started working for House, thinking a shared interest might make their relationship run a

little more smoothly. Unsurprisingly, his boss had guessed that motivation immediately and spent several weeks happily humiliating him. Since then, the

Australian hadn't dared to watch even a few seconds when he came across re-runs while channel-hopping. Of course, the plotholes, sappiness and frequent

catastrophes made the decision to abstain an easy one. Nevertheless, now Chase found himself sitting in his employer's desk chair and watching the little

screen. He tried to keep from groaning out loud as a patient not only met a long-lost daughter of his wife, but subsequently actually asked her out on a date.

Glancing at his boss, the Australian marvelled. It never ceased to amaze him how transfixed House was while watching his favourite TV show. Two characters

began to argue, and the intensivist turned to his boss.

"Isn't she Dr. Craig's daughter? What's she doing with - "

House's glare made his duckling shut up immediately. Chase mentally scolded himself – he knew better than to interrupt his supervisor's soaps. The intensivist

bit his lip and resolved to keep quiet. Even when the commercial break began, he kept staring at the screen, not moving. House watched his duckling for a

couple of seconds and then snorted derisively, making Chase's head snap around. "Turned into salt?" the older doctor enquired.

"No."

"Glad to hear that. And yeah, she was Dr. Craig's daughter. Muriel."

"Isn't she with that other bloke, you know...what's his name?"

"Francis. She's cheating on him."

"But – they just got engaged!"

"Muriel doesn't love him. She's just trying to please her great-uncle so he'll include her in the will."

"And the great-uncle likes Francis."

"Nope. Great-uncle likes Francis' twin brother. Edmund. But since he's in a coma..." The look Chase gave his boss spoke volumes.

"Anything on your mind?" House asked. The Australian grinned.

"What makes you think so?"

"The dumb grin, for example."

"Come on. You have to admit these soaps all follow the same recipe."

"Wipe the grin. And I think that's enough out of you."

"You know, I'm not even complaining about the medicine. That guy just now, for example. He was professing his love for that blond girl, perfectly happy. With a

white count that high, he should've been – "

"_You wanna stop talking_?" Chase shrugged, chuckling.

"I'm just saying. It must kill you, I bet for every patient they have, there's fifteen diagnoses on your mind that actually make – _ow_!" The Australian rubbed his

shin and then looked up at his boss wearily.

"How does Wilson _do_ it?"

"Wilson knows better than to insult General Hospital."

"Rubbish. I've heard him do it. And I haven't seen you bruising him in response."

"He'd pout for a week. Wilson is such a sissy."

Chase shrugged, muttering, "If it works..."

"Like you'd be able to stay away from me for a week." House smirked, and his intensivist mumbled something, inaudible and purposefully so.

"Pardon?" his boss asked but predictably, the Australian chose not to repeat his words.

"Never mind."

* * *

An hour later, when Foreman and Cameron returned to the department, everything was back to normal. Chase was sitting at the conference table while House

was busy surfing the internet in his office.

"How come you didn't follow us?" Foreman asked curiously, but before Chase had time to answer, House appeared in the doorway.

"Results, people. Let's go, I wanna be done by two." Cameron frowned.

"That's ten minutes from now."

"Exactly. Chop, chop." Chase had been looking through the chart, going over the test results.

"There's no way our patient will be cured in ten minutes." he observed, glancing at the department head. House shot him a look.

"Thanks to _someone_, I didn't get a lot of sleep last night." That shut Chase up, as well as making Cameron sympathetic enough to start presenting the results.

When she was finished, House nodded.

"Fine. Check for sarcoidosis." he shrugged on his jacket and grabbed his backpack. "Unless he's dying, I don't want any calls." And with that, House was gone.

* * *

The ducklings enjoyed a quiet afternoon without their supervisor. As Jasper was stable, they spent some more time getting a history, but discovered nothing

relevant. By four p.m., the three had finished their clinic duty and were back in the conference room, discussing how to proceed.

"We should call House." Foreman shrugged when his colleagues sighed at that idea. "It's the right thing to do."

"Jasper's _stable_." Chase pointed out, "We don't call House for patients that are perfectly happy in their room. He's playing with his kids, for God's sake."

Cameron agreed. "House won't even come in."

Chase nodded, adding, "...and he'd still make you regret calling."

Foreman rolled his eyes. "Well, what do you suggest?"

"I think we should check out the home."

"House hasn't – "

"Has he ever _not _wanted us to check out a patient's house?"

* * *

A fruitless search, two hours of testing samples and a subway ride later, Chase was finally climbing the stairs to his apartment. He heard the phone ring from

outside the door and struggled to find his keys while clutching the bag of takeaway he'd picked up on the way home. Having managed to open the door, he

sprinted inside, fervently hoping it wasn't House ordering him back to the hospital. However, it was Wilson's voice the young doctor heard a couple of seconds

later.

"Dr. Wilson, hello. Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine." the oncologist said, and Chase could hear the smile in his words. "I'm calling to ask you the exact same thing. I hear House has been giving

you a hard time?"

"Um. Well, he was a little stressed, I think."

"He's not listening, Chase. And anyway, he voluntarily told me about all those pranks. He seemed quite proud."

"Figures."

Wilson chuckled. "Yeah. Anyway – I'd like to know whether he's been any better today."

"Oh, right. He told me you were...blackmailing him. He didn't do anything."

"Are those his words, or yours?"

"No, honestly. For House, he was almost polite."

"Meaning he refrained from being a total ass?" Chase couldn't help but laugh.

"Exactly."

"I'm glad to hear it. You guys have a patient?"

"Yes. Stable at the moment, though."

"I'll let you get some rest then. While you can."

"Thanks. And...whatever you said to House...thank you for that, too."

"You're welcome. Good night, Chase!"

"Night, Dr. Wilson."


	10. Chapter 10

_Hello, everyone. A warning: House is going to be mean for this chapter. Next one, too. There is a reason for that, though. Fearlee and koralina, thank you! Pallada, you _

_inspired me, I hadn't even planned on a prank again so soon... :)_

* * *

For House, the evening had been a pleasant one, despite the lack of Wilson. Before leaving, the diagnostician had stolen a container of lasagne from the

nurses' lounge, so dinner was taken care of...and he was more than happy to spend several hours in front of the television, snacking and relaxing. Cuddy

seemed to not have noticed her most annoying employee missing, which was unusual. She had probably been to the department to yell at him by now, House

thought, deciding that the ducklings must have distracted her somehow. He smiled, thinking of the kids, so well-trained they covered for him without even

being told. Then, the diagnostician's smile vanished. He'd realised that smiling while thinking of his team was _not_ his style.

* * *

Chase, meanwhile, was getting ready for bed. It was eleven p.m. and there was a good chance he'd be paged during the night. Once patients made it to

House, they tended to be unstable even if it didn't seem like it. Hoping his night would be a quiet one, the intensivist crept under the covers and yawned,

snuggling down.

* * *

Just two hours later, Chase shot up and, after a second, tumbled onto the floor in a tangle of sheets. Slowly, he sat up, trying to determine what had woken

him.

"Open up!" he heard someone banging on the door and, rubbing his forehead, got to his feet. Shortly after, his eyes widened in shock when he heard two

voices discussing the breaking down of his door.

"I'm coming, just a sec!"

Chase had been incredulous when the intruders turned out to be cops, barging in and searching his apartment after flashing him a permit. He didn't protest,

though, realising the officers were just looking for an excuse to manhandle him.

"Sorry, but...may I ask what you're looking for?" he enquired politely once the search had been going on for a couple of minutes.

"You'd do well to keep your trap shut." one of the policemen advised, pulling open his bedroom drawer.

"Yeah, it's just – I'm pretty tired, and there really is nothing – "

"Listen to this," the larger one of the cops called out to his colleague, "the English chap's sleepy."

"I'm not English, actual – " Suddenly, it dawned on him. House. Chase sighed. "You got a phone-call, didn't you?"

"I said shut your mouth."

Trying not to grin, Chase shut his mouth.

* * *

Seven hours later, Chase was sitting at the conference table, a mug of coffee in front of him. It had taken almost three hours until the cops were ready to

accept there was nothing even remotely interesting in his apartment. And by the time they were gone, Chase was so annoyed that the little sleep he got was

less than restful. Now, he was trying to keep his eyes from shutting as he leafed through one of House's old magazines...

Cameron and Foreman found their colleague sprawled across the table, fast asleep. They shared a grin and went right back out again after dropping off their

things. They were late for their clinic duty, and both suspected that Chase had been called in sometime during the night as payback for the prank he'd pulled on

House. And that, while expected and even fair, was still something that merited a nap in the office.

* * *

It was nearly nine when House arrived, and discovering his wombat sleeping didn't amuse him at all. After taking one look at the kid, the diagnostician limped

to the sink and filled a glass with water. Then, he unceremoniously dumped it over his minion's head. Chase woke up with a strangled, spluttering yelp.

"_House_!" he protested angrily, jumping up and wiping the water out of his eyes. His boss wasn't in the mood for any discussions, though. "Your shift started an

hour ago. Done anything productive?" His eyes were flashing dangerously, and Chase forgot his indignation, feeling nervous more than anything else.

"Uh..."

"I thought so." Without further ado, House grabbed his employee by the collar, spun him around and gave him a shove in the direction of the door. "Breakfast."

he commanded. Chase was out like a flash.

* * *

9:15 a.m.

"Took you long enough." House scolded when Chase returned with bagels, cream cheese and chocolate muffins. The intensivist had almost recovered from his

abrupt awakening, and thinking about the cause of his tiredness had helped him regain his confidence. So, when House declared he wouldn't pay Chase back

because sleeping on the job had to be punished, the young doctor clenched his fists. House hadn't ever paid him back before, but that wasn't the point. The

Australian narrowed his eyes angrily.

"You do realise it's your fault I fell asleep, right?" he demanded.

"Quit your whining. And get the hell out of here."

"_Why_?"

House fixed him with a look.

"Because I said so, Chase." It took a few seconds, but eventually, the diagnostician's threatening body language presented too good an argument. Chase,

completely confused, stumbled out.

* * *

9:45 a.m.

House had sent Chase away thinking he needed some peace and quiet. However, as soon as he'd finished his breakfast, the diagnostician got bored. Deciding

there was no reason to endure boredom when you had three employees to amuse yourself, House paged his team to the office. Chase was the first to arrive,

looking apprehensive.

"You paged me?" he asked. His boss nodded.

"Yeah." He didn't elaborate, so Chase simply sat down at the table, far away from his superior, and waited. It didn't take long for Foreman and Cameron to

arrive.

"What d'you want?" the neurologist asked as soon as he'd entered. He didn't like being pulled out of clinic duty, and never hid his annoyance when he was.

Chase bit his lip. With House in as bad a mood as he was in today, Foreman would be torn to shreds.

"What I want is for you guys to explain to me why no-one is giving me any news on the patient." House said sharply.

Cameron frowned. "Well, because there are none." she stated.

"_Really_?" House asked, rounding on the immunologist. "Might've been interesting to know he's not eating, don't you think?"

"I didn't know that." Cameron defended herself.

"Don't give me the little-girl-act. You're all grown-up now, daddy's not here to protect you from the big kids. It's your responsibility to make our patients talk."

'Responsibility' was just the word to use with Cameron. She knew the team counted on her to make patients feel cared-for, though House would never admit

that. Biting her lip, the immunologist turned away and started to make coffee. She'd be thinking about House's comment for weeks.

With Foreman, on the other hand, you had to be blunter. House pounced on his neurologist next, using a different tactic.

"Wanna guess what Cuddy told me about, Dr. Foreman?" he asked, seemingly innocent. The younger doctor sighed.

"Her nose job? The fact I only got hired to fill some kind of minority quota? What, House?"

"None of the above. She said you'd like to co-author an article with Dr. Bernacre."

"Right. Yeah. I was going to let you know, just didn't get a chance – "

"Answer's no."

"What?"

"You're not doing it."

"I...I wasn't going to ask for permission..." Foreman explained, utterly bewildered. Chase grimaced.

"I see your name on any articles," House threatened, "and I'll make sure you're sitting on your ass doing paperwork for a month." Foreman stared for a couple

of seconds, then visibly deflated. In his mind, the neurologist was a physician well-respected by everyone. In the real world, he was well-respected by

everyone but House. And House took pleasure in demonstrating exactly how little he cared about what Foreman wanted.

"Go take blood." House ordered, daring the younger man to refuse. Fuming, Foreman left.


	11. Chapter 11

_Exactly, Rei :) Pallada, thanks – and is this an amazingly fast update, or what? Koralina, I know I didn't end the last chapter at a logical place. I was falling asleep while _

_typing, and I figured waiting to post it would be mean. May you be consoled by this new chapter! Lize – done! Didn't fit in this chapter, but I'll do it, and I'm looking _

_forward to it, too! ;)_

* * *

10:45 a.m.

After the team were treated to a differential full of insults and mocking, House finally released them with orders to run several tests and talk to the patient

again.

"What did you _do_?" Cameron asked, as soon as they'd turned the corner.

"Me? Nothing!" Chase replied.

"You must have done something."

"Cameron, I didn't. He had the cops search my apartment last night, but I didn't do anything. Honest."

"Cops?"

"Yeah. Called them. Anonymously, I suppose. It was awesome."

"Well..."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I asked for it."

Foreman chimed in: "It's not the first time he's acting like a lunatic, Cameron."

"Yeah – " the immunologist agreed, "but still, there has to be a reason." Chase shrugged.

"Well, if there is, I don't think we'll find out. Unless you'd like to ask him..."

"No, thanks." Cameron sighed. "Let's just get to work."

* * *

11.10 a.m.

"Foreman!"

The neurologist tried hard to keep his face professional. After all, not only was their patient watching, but his three children had looked up from their toys as

well.

"Yes, Dr. House?"

"Heel."

House turned around, walking along the corridor, while Foreman swallowed his pride. No-one else had ever been arrogant enough to believe the neurologist

would accept such a method of summons, but of course, House was. And the diagnostician could also be relied on to find some way of making his minion regret

if he simply ignored him. So, sullenly but reasonably fast, Foreman followed the older doctor.

"What?" he spat when he'd caught up.

"Less of the attitude." House countered, raising an eyebrow in warning.

Foreman clenched his fists. Whenever his employer got difficult, the neurologist tried to copy the behaviour of someone who never contradicted House. 'What

would Chase do?' he asked himself, and then looked at the department head with a carefully levelled expression.

"Did you need anything?" he asked, suppressing the urge to add, "...jackass."

"No."

"You're just screwing with me."

"Yup."

It was all Foreman could do to keep from punching his mentor.

* * *

1:05 p.m.

By lunch time, the diagnostic fellows had worked for three hours straight. House had managed to be everywhere at once, annoying the hell out of his

employees. When Foreman tried to take a coffee break, House dumped his mug into the sink, making it shatter. Then, he'd ordered the neurologist to clean up.

Chase was ridiculed in front of their patient for explaining a procedure House had agreed on. When his intensivist responded by calling off the test, House had

yelled at him for a full two minutes straight – again in front of the patient. And Cameron had been paged for a consult exactly five times, each time to discover

that the apparent sender had no idea what she was talking about. Now, the immunologist had somehow managed to be alone in the office for a couple of

minutes. Needless to say, the ducklings were pissed off. So, she decided to order pizza for all of them – House not included. Sure, he would simply steal it if he

found out, but she had a plan to stop him from doing that...and everyone knows pizza tastes best if eaten in secret.

"... a large pepperoni, please, and that's it" Cameron waited while her order was being repeated back to her and then said, "Yeah, that's fine. Listen, would it

be possible for you to deliver it to the roof? The hospital's." After hanging up the phone, Cameron left the room. And in the maternity lounge, House smirked.

The bugging device had come in handy again.

* * *

1:25 p.m.

Chase was the first to arrive on the roof. Or so he thought. Actually, House was waiting already, concealed from view. He stepped out from behind the boulder

he'd used to hide and enjoyed the panicked look on his duckling's face.

"Oh, House...hi." Chase stammered, looking like a kid with his hand stuck in something a lot more forbidden than the cookie jar.

"Chase." House responded. "Enjoying the fresh air?"

Chase was torn. It was highly unlikely House just happened to amble up to the roof at the exact time they'd scheduled. And he frequently tested his minions'

willingness to lie to him, so this could very well be a trap. On the other hand, Cameron had sworn the diagnostician hadn't been anywhere near when she'd

ordered the pizzas...and Chase definitely didn't want to be the one giving away their secret. So, the intensivist decided to not say anything unless he was

asked directly.

"Yeah." he replied, thinking that he _was _enjoying the fresh air.

"Thought I told you to put Mr. Tannsey through lots and lots of unnecessary tests?"

"All done." (_They were_.) Chase shifted nervously. If he could get a message to his colleagues somehow... "Um, is there anything else you need me to do?"

"Just keep me company." (Now, Chase knew House had found out about the pizzas.) The Australian bit his lip. "Sure." House turned away, limping to the

banister, and Chase's eyes lit up. Frantically, he dug around in his lab coat until he'd found his pager. However, when he looked up, he realized House was

looking at him.

"Put that away." he said, his voice carrying over easily, "If you're good, I might save some pizza for you."

Defeated, Chase trotted over to his boss.

"The weather's nice." he mumbled, just to have something to say.

"It isn't, actually." The intensivist shrugged.

"Could be worse."

"Could be better. Now shut up about the weather already." For a few seconds, the two doctor's stood beside each other silently, Chase chewing his lip. Then,

the Australian turned to his boss.

"Seen any good movies lately?"

"Chase...!"

"Sorry." The young doctor eyed his employer's cane warily...but he couldn't quite suppress his grin.

* * *

1:45 p.m.

Stripped of pizza, the three fellows trudged back to the conference room shortly after. Foreman had been quick enough to grab a slice, but the other two were

still just as hungry as they'd been before.

"What's he gonna do with three pizzas, anyway?" Chase muttered angrily.

"Eat them." Foreman said matter-of-factly. Seeing as House would gladly eat junk food for breakfast, lunch and dinner, his prediction was likely. Cameron

sighed.

"Sorry, guys."

"Don't beat yourself up." Chase consoled her, "He must have hid somewhere. We all know he's good at that."

"Well, someone needs to talk to him." As if on cue, both Foreman and Cameron turned towards their colleague.

Chase shook his head. "No."

"He's got to turn it down a notch, Chase. This is too much."

"I know. But I won't be the sacrificial lamb. You go, Cameron. You're his favourite anyway."

The immunologist shook her head defiantly.

"Not for a long time." Chase turned to Foreman, but before he could say anything, the neurologist sighed.

"Look," he began, "I'd do it. But there is no way he'll tell me anything. I can't...deal the way you do. I get angry. You...you always know what to say." Seconds

passed. Then, finally, Chase took a deep breath.

"Fine."


	12. Chapter 12

_Thanks, Pallada! This chapter took me longer, but here it is. Koralina, I have to keep you guys interested, don't I? Sorry ;) espogio, that's very nice to hear. And Rei, _

_thanks, you'll find out now :)_

* * *

Chase had bought a packet of Skittles and was now standing outside House's office. To say he was nervous would be a big understatement – the intensivist

was positively jitterish. Timidly, he knocked on the door and entered. House was sitting at his desk, one of the pizza cartons open in front of him, the other two

stacked on the Eames chair. He studied his employee.

"No whining. You knew I'd find out."

"Actually...we didn't think you would. At least, not immediately."

"That makes you even more moronic. You don't deserve junk food." With that, House picked up a slice of pizza and bit off a piece, making Chase's stomach

rumble.

"What do you want?" House said eventually, having swallowed the wedge of pizza.

"I'm...I brought you some Skittles."

"Right. I repeat: What do you want?"

"Well...I was wondering whether maybe you'd like to...call Wilson?"

"Is this an intervention?"

"Um. Kind of."

"I'm not gonna call Wilson. Mind your own business." Chase was quiet for a couple of seconds. Then, he looked up at his boss.

"It is our business. You're making us miserable." House scoffed.

"As opposed to my usual gentle demeanour?"

"You know you're overdoing it." Suddenly, the diagnostician seemed tired.

"Shut up, Chase."

"No. I want you to tell me what's bothering you. Maybe I can – "

"Shut up." House would never have believed Chase, of all people, would be able to stress him like that. It was supposed to be the other way around. And the

Aussie still wouldn't stop talking.

"Just tell me, House. It's fine." The intensivist's eyes got wide as his boss sighed. Maybe his supervisor would finally open up. Chase stood still, waiting.

"You know what, Wombat? You can be extremely annoying. Congrats."

"Thanks...?"

House looked straight at his subordinate. "You can do the insurance report as a reward. Now get out of here."

Chase knew better than to argue, but as he trudged out, shoulders slumped, he mumbled,

"I was only trying to – " That did it.

"When the report's done, buy new markers. Also, sign up for a couple of shifts in geriatrics. And Cuddy wants one of you guys to take an ASL class. Guess you

got lucky. Fifteen sessions." Chase had been growing more and more miserable as House went on, but hearing the last item on the list, he got distracted.

"ASL? As in, 'American Sign Language'?"

"Unless she meant the American Sex Lovers'." The intensivist shook his head.

"Why does she want us to do that?"

"She needs more interpreters. Some policy. So I suggested you guys."

"You suggested us? But...you hate when we're not in the office because we're involved in – "

"You got that backwards. I _love_ when you're not around. Only thing I hate is when you're so busy polishing up your CV's that I can't get anyone to do my clinic

duty. But anyway, those classes aren't during work hours." Chase snorted.

"No. No way. You hardly ever let us get home on time as it is. I'm not doing it."

"Um. Hate to break it to you, but you don't make the decisions. Didn't you get the memo?"

"What – what memo?"

"The one saying I run the place."

"_Cuddy_ runs the place."

"That's what she thinks. And anyway, she and I both agree you'd benefit."

"The hell you do." House almost smiled. He was thoroughly enjoying this part of the conversation.

"Come on now. Why put up a struggle? You know I don't fight fair." Chase sighed.

""You can say that again." He ran a hand through his hair. "Those classes. When are they?"

"Fridays, 8 p.m." A look of dismay washed over the young doctor's face.

"Friday is when I go to the bowling alley. I...I got some guys I meet up with."

"Oh, right. In that case, I'll reschedule." Chase didn't believe that for a second.

"Maybe...maybe I could try to find a different class? One that's a little more convenient for me? I'd pay for it myself, if that's a problem..."

"You're taking this one, Chase. D'you really wanna keep arguing?" House's eyes were glinting dangerously, and once again, his subordinate backed down.

"No. It's – it's fine." Without another word, he left.

* * *

Outside, Foreman and Cameron were waiting. Chase's dejected look told the whole story.

"No luck?" Foreman asked anyway, and, as predicted, the intensivist shook his head.

"He's got me writing that insurance report...I have to buy new markers and take some shifts in geriatrics. Oh, and he's making me sign up for an ASL class."

Chase flashed his co-workers a glare.

"Do you get why I didn't want to do this?" Cameron looked suitably chastised.

"Sorry. I can – I can do the report... The shifts in geriatrics too, if you want. "

Foreman struggled with himself, not being one to offer favours.

"I'll buy those markers." he said eventually.

Chase, however, shook his head.

"He'll find out." Foreman had the audacity to roll his eyes.

"Look, man. You can't go around worrying you'll get caught all the time. Who _cares _whether House finds out?" The Australian doctor stared in disbelief.

"_I_ care. Because I'm the one he'll be punishing. Has it ever occurred to you that I'm different with House because he's different with me?"

"Well, you let him get away with it."

"And when have you ever managed to keep House from doing exactly what he wanted?"

"..."

"Yeah. That's what I thought. Excuse me. I need to get to geriatrics." And with that, Chase stormed off.

* * *

Up in geriatrics, life seemed to stand still. Chase greeted a few patients he knew walking along the hallway, trying to find an attending. When he'd located one,

he waved.

"Hi, Dr. Sherlyn. I'm here to help out." Dr. Sherlyn, a tall woman with wavy, ginger hair, frowned. She liked the young diagnostician, but hadn't called anyone

up.

"Thanks, Dr. Chase, but – we don't need any help, actually. It's pretty slow around here." The Australian's face fell.

"Um, could I...stay for a while?" The geriatric attending understood.

"Right...what did you do now?" Chase smiled a strained smile.

"Seriously – I wish I knew."

* * *

Meanwhile, in the cafeteria, Foreman and Cameron were arguing.

"I'm not saying we should TP his living room." The neurologist explained, "But you can't deny that those pranks Chase played on him had him in a better mood."

"It's childish. And unprofessional."

Foreman laughed. "So's House." he pointed out.

* * *

_Several hours later_

"House!"

The diagnostician scrunched up his face in pain at the screechy voice of his boss. He walked faster, trying to get to the relative safety of patient rooms, but

Cuddy was well-versed in catching up to him. Spinning around, she cut him off.

"What now, Dr. Cuddy?" House asked, taking care to make his voice as whiny as possible.

"I'd like to talk to you about the beautiful decorations you've decided to put up in your office."

"Are you on speed?"

"No, House. For once, I'm not stoned. What are those balloons about?"


	13. Chapter 13

_I'm so sorry or not posting earlier. I couldn't find an answer for my medical case. Now, I have one, though it's not very well thought out. I decided not to bother any _

_more, since I'm late enough as it is. Thanks, Pallada, you're almost right ;) Rei and assioma, glad you enjoyed it, thank you! _

_This chapter is longer to make up for the wait, and I've got the next one half-finished, too. So it definitely won't be as long as this one! _

* * *

House followed Cuddy up to his department, curious in spite of himself. He was expecting a couple of balloons taped to the wall. He wasn't expecting his entire

office completely _filled up_ with them.

"What the hell..." he growled, while Cuddy sighed.

"You didn't do it?"

"Think, Cuddy. Whose office would I mess with?"

"Mine, probably. Or Wilson's."

"Exactly." House tried pulling at the door, but stopped when the balloons inside the room started to gently topple towards him. Instead, the diagnostician got

out his pager.

"Oh, Chase is paying for this." House muttered, punching in numbers. Cuddy looked at him reproachfully.

"What are you doing?"

"Do you really want to know?" The dean of medicine thought about that. House routinely dealt with his minions in ways that were past any strategies on

effective leadership – mocking, patronizing and abusing them whenever he got the chance. She definitely didn't want to know what he was planning.

"No." she admitted, turning to go. "Just...don't get sued."

* * *

Chase groaned when he received the page telling him to meet House at diagnostic's immediately. Dropping the pen he'd been using to work on a couple of

crossword puzzles, he got up and made his way to the stairs, jogging down them quickly. Shortly after, he rounded the corner and almost ran straight into

House.

"Slow down. What are you, the Flash?"

"Who's the Flash?"

"No way. How many years have you been in America? Scratch that, How many years have you been _alive_? It's impossible not to have heard of the Flash."

Chase stared at the ground sullenly. House shook his head.

"Superhero. Super-fast. Scarlet. Anything?!"

"I'm not really into superheroes..." Chase explained defiantly. He wished he were back in geriatrics. Which was a first.

"Figures." House said, making clear Chase had just lost any respect he might've had with House.

"Did you need anything?" the Australian asked, trying to hide his impatience.

"Yeah. I'd like to know whether there's something you'd like to tell me."

The intensivist frowned in confusion, then sighed. "How did you know?"

"Kind of hard to miss."

"Why? Did I...what, get some biro on my face?"

"No, Chase. The fact that I couldn't get my office doors to open tipped me off."

"Your...what?"

"Office. Doors. Ringing. Bells?"

"No. I thought – never mind." House rolled his eyes. He spun his employee around and pointed at the glass walls separating the corridor from the department.

"What is this?" he growled menacingly. Chase's eyes got wide.

"I don't know." he said truthfully, straining his neck to see better.

"Likely." House yanked him back around.

"I don't, honestly. I was up in geriatrics until you paged me."

The diagnostician studied his underling. He did seem to be telling the truth.

"Up in geriatrics?"

"Yes."

"Working hard?" Chase blinked, then reluctantly shook his head.

"Doing crosswords." he admitted.

"Learned anything?"

"Um. No."

"Waste of time then, right?"

"There wasn't anything to do."

"Nothing? In the entire hospital?"

"You said to go up to geriatrics..."

"I meant to _work_. Next time, you get back to me before slacking off. Or rather, instead of." The Australian nodded mutely. He had gotten off easily.

"D'you want me to go back up there?"

"No, you moron. Find your playmates, come back to the office."

"Right."

* * *

Chase located his co-workers in record time, rightly assuming that House would not feel like waiting patiently. So, the ducklings assembled in the conference

room less than ten minutes after the diagnostician had sent his intensivist off on his retrieval mission. House was standing at the whiteboard, watching his

employees troop in. Chase hung back.

"Can I go?" he asked, adding, "I should probably get started on that report..."

"No." House replied curtly, and Chase sat down with a sigh. The diagnostician scrutinized his underlings.

"Which of you two geniuses messed with my office?"

Foreman and Cameron shared a look, but kept quiet. They'd hoped the prank would get their boss scheming again, which would be easier to deal with. He

didn't seem amused in the slightest, however.

"Fine." House said after a few seconds' silence, adding, "None of you are leaving the hospital until I get an answer."

Foreman scoffed. "That's completely unjustified."

"Might be. But you kind of signed up for 'unjustified' when you agreed to work for me."

* * *

Despite their continued protests, House insisted that his employees stayed at the hospital until he had his answer. And unfortunately, the diagnostician knew

his staff so well he could force his wishes without even needing to think about it: Cameron he reminded that she had, in fact, behaved unprofessionally. It just

took these words to make the immunologist agree that it was only fair if she suffered the consequences. Foreman was swiftly threatened with the termination

of his contract – House smiled when his neurologist was silenced by that. Telling them they'd be fired worked every time... And Chase, of course, was easiest.

All House did was order him to stay. Chase glowered, House glared, and Chase dropped his gaze. And stayed.

* * *

In the department of diagnostic's, House's fellows were popping balloons. While they had all been instructed not to leave the room, only Chase was supposed

to bring House's office back to normal. But Cameron and Foreman knew perfectly well that they'd done nothing to improve House's mood...and they also

realized was taking his frustration out on Chase. Popping some balloons was a small prize to pay.

"You'll tell him when we're done, won't you?" the Australian asked, hoping to be reassured.

"He knows we did it." Foreman replied sourly.

"Yeah, but – "

"Relax. I'll tell him. I don't want to spend the night." Chase didn't remind him that with House in his current mood, there was a good chance they would

anyway.

* * *

When House returned to his office, the balloons had vanished. His ducklings were sitting at the conference table, subdued and frustrated. Not to mention

hungry.

"So?" House asked.

Foreman scowled at him. "Do you really need to hear us say it?"

"Yup. Pathetic, huh?"

"Yes. But if it means that much: Yeah, we put those balloons in your office."

"Thank you for your honesty. And I'm docking you guys a week's pay."

"You're an ass." Foreman was fuming. Quickly, Cameron intervened.

"House, don't you think that's a little much? It was supposed to be a joke. And we cleaned up."

"I'll make the jokes. And what do you mean, 'we'? I told Chase to do it." Cameron bit her lip, so House turned to his youngest employee.

"Chase?"

"They helped," the intensivist mumbled.

"No trade-offs. I'm docking your pay too."

"Right." Chase sighed.

Cameron and Foreman shared an incredulous glance.

"He didn't even do anything!" the immunologist protested. House got up from his chair.

"You wanna make it two weeks?"

* * *

Two hours later, House was back at home, playing his piano. His employees, meanwhile, were still at the hospital – taking care of their patient, who had

definitely taken a turn for the worse. Suddenly, House's hands froze in mid-air. While the chords lingered, he snatched his cellphone. A couple of seconds later,

Chase answered.

"Yeah?"

"He's depressed."

"Who is?"

"The patient. Go to his room."

"I'm in there already. But he's asleep."

"Wake him up."

"Just to ask him whether he's depressed? We've already done that, it's standard – "

"Wake him up." Chase didn't respond, but House could hear him gently waking Mr. Tannsey. Then, the intensivist said, "I need you to tell me the truth. Are you,

or have you ever been depressed?"

The patient stared at Chase. He could barely lift his arms, and the young doctor's words hardly penetrated the thick fog his mind had created around him as a

shield. The Australian sighed.

"He's not answering, House."

"He's taken Drazine."

"Drazine? That's been off the market for years!"

"Making the available remainder all the more craved. He probably got it cheap from some quack. He needs a new liver."

"But – we don't have any proof..." House cradled his head in his hands. Sometimes he wondered whether he'd been delusional when hiring Chase. But as he

often suspected the same thing about Cameron and Foreman, it seemed pretty unlikely.

"What do we do when we suspect a patient's taken something?"

Chase hung his head. Sometimes he understood why House called him a moron. He consoled himself with the knowledge that just as often, he got mocked for

good or even exceptional ideas.

"Right. I'll get Foreman and Cameron on it. We'll call as soon as we know – "

"No you won't. I'm right. Confirm and put him on the transplant list. Think you can manage that?"

"Yes."

"Awesome."

* * *

House fully expected to get another call. For some reason, his team felt the need to check with him about ten times before actually doing anything. He'd have

to break them of that habit someday, House thought at about ten o'clock, idly wondering why his phone wasn't ringing, when he heard the doorbell instead.

The diagnostician groaned silently. Some neighbour probably, asking him to keep it down. They never learned. House hoped whoever it was would just give up

– but after the fifth ring, he abandoned that hope. Limping to the door, he put on his most intimidating face. Which was replaced by real shock when he yanked

the door open to reveal Chase.

"Hi." the intensivist said. He was holding a plastic bag. "I brought you Thai Food."

"Thai Food."

"Yes. It's Thursday...Wilson always gets Thai for you guys on Thursdays."

"So you decided to dump work and rush to get take-out."

"Patient's getting a transplant. And I finished your report." With these words, Chase pushed past his boss, strode through the living room and planted himself

on the couch. His heart was pounding, and his nervousness was enhanced by House coming over to him. For a few seconds, neither doctor said anything.

Then, House looked at his employee.

"There's beer in the fridge."


	14. Chapter 14

_Thanks, Pallada, that's the part I liked, too ;) koralina, I'm relieved – I thought you'd abandoned me. Things with Wilson will clear up soon! Assioma, he definitely does. _

_Wouldn't hurt to have more than one friend, in general...hi, akosiha, thanks for reviewing, welcome and yes, I will! :)_

* * *

The next morning, House didn't arrive at the hospital until ten. He limped through the lobby, trying to dodge Cuddy – unsuccessfully.

"House!" The diagnostician kept right on walking, but Cuddy caught up with him.

"House. Should I believe the rumours?"

"The ones about us two having sex?" House winked. "I would! It's worth it." Cuddy smiled and grabbed her employee's shirt to keep him from taking off again,

pulling him into her office instead.

"Hilarious." she said, "But I was talking about the one saying you didn't look at your patient even _once_ before having him put on a transplant list."

House rolled his eyes, sitting down in a chair opposite his boss. "So?"

"The transplant committee needs a senior physician's assessment...you are aware of that, right?"

"I assessed him."

"From your office?"

"Or home. I'm that good." The diagnostician grinned at his employer's shock.

"_You went home_?"

"My team didn't."

"House – Cameron, Chase and Foreman are good, but – they don't have the experience. If legal hears about this – "

"So don't tell them. Patient's cured, isn't he?"

"He's cured?" Cuddy's relief was obvious. "Well, at least – "

"I was asking _you_. I have no idea whether he is."

"You – you don't know whether your patient is cured?" The dean rubbed her temples, trying to calm herself. "But your team would have called. They'd – right?"

House kept a straight face.

"Oh, sure, they call. Unless they've messed up. Then, they prefer not to talk to me, for some reason." Cuddy looked very close to collapsing, so House decided

to let her off the hook.

"Relax. Patient's fine. And they always call. Annoyingly."

* * *

After being yelled at for a pretty long time, House was finally able to make his way up to the office. Cuddy always gave him a headache, and he desperately

needed caffeine. Only one of his employees was present.

"Coffee fresh?" the department head asked, barely inside. Chase nodded.

"Cameron just made some." The Australian did a pretty good job at hiding his nervousness, but to House, it was obvious.

"Get a grip."

Chase hesitated, then nodded. "I'll...yeah."

"Where are the others?"

"Clinic, I think."

"Okay. Breakfast, then." House set his mug back on the counter and limped to the door. When he noticed Chase wasn't following, the diagnostician turned

around.

"Get going!" he called impatiently. His underling got up slowly, frowning. He trotted towards the department head.

"What?" he said, before cringing. If House was still in as bad a mood as the day before, that tone could very well be enough to get him into trouble. House,

however, didn't even seem to notice.

"Breakfast." he repeated simply, walking off. Chase followed without a word.

* * *

In the cafeteria, House ordered himself a huge breakfast. He was about to demand that Chase pay when he noticed the intensivist was already handing

money to the cashier. He was also smirking, as if he had somehow won. House decided not to care, and went over to a table. Shortly after, Chase arrived with

his own tray. He had barely sat down when somebody else appeared – suddenly, Cuddy was standing beside their table.

"You're eating with your team now?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"Bonding." House replied, adding, "Chase is so into that." He smirked at his quickly blushing subordinate. Cuddy pretended not to have heard.

"Got a case." she said instead.

"Not again."

"You'll like it."

"Bet you fifty bucks I won't."

"Just...take a look at it." Cuddy dropped a folder on the table and turned on her heel, not willing to let herself get dragged into another argument.

A few seconds passed before House gestured impatiently.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" Chase replied, when he understood. Of course. House didn't trouble himself reading a file if there was someone who would do it for him. With a

quiet sigh, the Australian picked up the folder.

"Male. Sixty. Healthy all his life, but allergic to almonds. He's been vomiting for three days straight. His left leg is paralysed, and he hears...a 'buzzing'. But only

when it's dark."

"Hm."

"Are we taking it?"

"Yeah. After I eat up."

"But – "

"I'm sure there's a swarm of nurses taking care of him. Eat."

Shrugging, Chase picked up his fork – and ate what was left of his bacon.

* * *

Two hours later, the diagnostic team gathered in the conference room. The initial tests had already been run, giving them no new ideas. Once his employees

were seated, House looked at them expectantly.

"Ideas." he demanded.

"There's nothing connecting these symptoms." Foreman mused.

"There always is." House admonished, but his team just stared at him silently. And while normally, the diagnostician would stay on top of them until they'd had

some ideas, this time...they seemed to be right. House had never seen a set of symptoms seeming so entirely unconnected.

"Fine." the older doctor said at last. "Chase, I need you."

And, Chase on his heels, he left.

For a full five minutes, Chase simply followed his boss – but eventually, he had to ask.

"House? Um, where are we going?"

"Nowhere."

"Well, is there any reason I should be following you?"

"How about 'I said so'?" House eyed his minion sharply and was glad to discover that seemed to shut him up. But nevertheless, House had a different reason:

"I need an idea. Wilson's not here, so you're the next best thing. Depressing as that is."

"But...maybe you call him?"

"No."

Chase flinched at House's snappy response and decided not to enquire further. Instead, he suggested,

"Maybe we should be talking? It's the things Wilson says, usually, right?" Reluctantly, House nodded.

"I guess."

"Well, then..."

"Yeah, yeah. Talk." House was still limping ahead at top speed. Besides having trouble keeping up, now Chase was trying to think of a clever question at the

same time. Unsuccessfully. Finally, he gave up.

"What about?" he asked timidly.

"I'm not giving you topics, idiot."

"Sorry...but – I'm not used to this. I – I can't be Wilson. It's impossible."

House's eyes glazed over and for a second, Chase was worried his boss was either going to yell at him or...start crying, which would be very unsettling.

However, House did none of that. Instead, he stared at Chase for a second, and then muttered, "It's impossible." Turning on his heel, the diagnostician limped

off. And Chase dug his pager out of his lab pocket.

"He knows." he typed.

Shortly after, the ducklings were gathered in the conference room. House was standing at the whiteboard again, but smirking this time...and all three of his

employees looked rather subdued.

"How long did you think you'd be able to fool me?" the diagnostician enquired. Foreman rolled his eyes.

"Longer than a couple hours."

"We wouldn't have compromised any of the real patients' care." Cameron added, and was rewarded with a sarcastic look from both her colleagues.

"You think _that's_ what he's worried about?" Chase hissed, and Cameron shrugged sullenly.

House smirked in amusement.

"Who's idea was this?" No answer.

"Chase?"

"Not mine!" the intensivist assured him quickly.

"Who's, then?" Put on the spot like this, Chase had to answer.

"Cuddy's, actually." House nodded.

"That's what I thought. Right. You'll be working this weekend." The ducklings nodded, even Foreman managing to keep himself in check for once.

"What are you gonna do to Cuddy?" Chase asked, curious. House's grin was positively evil.

"Oh...you'll see."

* * *

Four hours later, Chase was getting ready to go home, when House called him into his office.

Sharing a look with his colleagues, the intensivist trotted towards his boss dispiritedly.

"Hi, Chase. You ready?"

"Ready? Uh – for what?"

"Cinema."

"Cinema?"

"Come on. Work with me. You, me, cinema."

"Seriously?" House glared.

"This is not a date. I'm driving. And you're paying. Now get a move on."


End file.
